The Butt of the Joke
by unforth
Summary: Dean Winchester is building a new life for himself and his brother. Senior year is all that stands between him and the freedom to work himself to death to earn enough money to put Sam through college. Friends and good grades optional. Except, on his very first day he finds himself sitting next to a cute guy he can't resist... (Dean/Jimmy/Cas HS AU)
1. Chapter 1

On Saturday I got a request on Tumblr that I couldn't resist. Tumblr user st0nedlucifer drew my attention to attention to a post with a request that I turn the anecdote in the post into a Dean/Jimmy/Cas story. The prompt (originally by Tumblr user makeoutstation) was:

"oh my GOD so i was talking to a buddy in psychology and then this kid came in who looked exactly like him and gave him a book he'd forgotten at home

"and i went 'holy shit you have a twin?!' and he was like 'yeah! his name is jason!' and i was like '! ? i thought YOUR name was jason'

"long story short i have one of them in my math class and another in my psychology class and i've developed a friendship with both of them but i thought they were the same person this entire time"

And this addendum:

"remember this post? not-jason is refusing to tell me his name and everyone's keeping it from me so i'm just calling him not-jason"

So, using that as a prompt, I wrote the below story. I changed a few of the specifics, but the idea remains the same.

The entire first draft is written (it's about 11k words) and I'm hoping to have the whole story posted tonight, but regardless it'll be up soon. :)

Note: This is a Dean/Cas/Jimmy story. Cas and Jimmy are twin brothers - so warning for incest/twincest.

* * *

 **The Butt of the Joke**

"Alright, everyone, you know the drill – turn and talk with your neighbor!" said Ms. Bradbury brightly. She was the youngest teacher Dean had ever seen; if she was more than five years older than her high school seniors, Dean would be shocked.

First day of Dean's senior year at a new school, first period, first class, and now he was expected to have some kind of bizarre share and care with the dude sitting next to him as if they were still fifth graders. Sighing, Dean turned, met a steady blue gaze and immediately thought better of his reluctance. Dude was hot: neatly combed dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, a lean body without an ounce of fat. Dude was weird: he wore a button up white shirt, a gray tie, and neatly pressed slacks with perfectly straight lines down the front of each leg. The only hint of teenage rebellion was a single stud through his ear, a plain silver earring looking strangely lonely. Weird but hot. Dean could work with that.

"Yo, I'm Dean."

"Yes, I know," the boy said. "Ms. Bradbury said everyone's names when she took attendance." Restrained by the judging look on the boy's face, Dean barely choked back saying _well I wasn't paying any fucking attention so what's your name_? "You're a transfer student, correct?"

"My dad got a new job," Dean lied. "We got here like two weeks ago. You from here?"

"Yes, my family moved to the area when I was an infant," said the boy, nodding. "This is a good school. I hope you'll like it here."

"Me too."

So the day went: dull classes, first day homework, awkward small talk with strangers and sitting on the sidelines while the other students reunited with their friends after a summer apart. Everyone knew everyone else, and while everyone was polite and welcoming towards Dean, they were – understandably – too interested in catching up with each other to have any interest in the new transfer student. They had friends already, they didn't need more friends. Stepping into the lunch room, Dean looked around for the boy from math class – he was the only person Dean could even pretend to know and at least he was hot – but the boy was nowhere to be seen. The cafeteria was crowded with vaguely familiar faces, none of whom Dean could assign a name to. One eager wave did catch his eye. Sam sat at a large table of freshmen. At least things would be easier for Sammy, he was starting with everyone else. All of the freshmen were in the same positions and none of them had friends yet. Anyway, Sammy was better at getting to know new people than Dean was, always had been. Sweet idiot; his kid brother was gesturing for Dean to come over as if Dean had the least interest in sitting with a group of squirts. Dean gave an awkward wave back, grabbed himself a tray of crap food and went to sit by himself, making a show of pulling out one of his new text books. If he was doomed to have no friends, he might as well get a jump start on his homework. That way, he wouldn't have to worry about it while he was at work later. Not a single person spoke to Dean through lunch. When it was over, he packed up his things with a sigh, reminded himself he only had to get through a year of this shit and left to face the second half of the day.

His last class was his only elective: Psychology. To his surprise and, he realized with shock, pleasure, the boy from first period was seated next to him again. The change in him from first period to last period was stark – now he was disheveled, his hair a mess, his earring traded out for a spike, his slacks and button up replaced by loose jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with an AC/DC logo. Dean grinned. His initial read had been spot on, this kid was fuckin' weird, but he was Dean's kind of weird.

"Two outfits in one day? That must make a hell of a lot of laundry," Dean joked as he took his seat. The boy gave him an easy grin and shrugged.

"Swim team," he said. There was a casualness to his words that had been lacking in the morning, too. "We meet during a double period of gym and lunch. This way, I can spend the rest of the day wearing what I want – keep the clothes in my locker here, wash them in the school laundry, change back before I go home. You know how parents are."

"Sure, yeah," Dean lied again. Attempting to explain his home situation was not a good way to make friends. Easier to pretend that he had even one parent who gave a flying fuck what he wore. "I can see why you'd want to change."

"One year, then I can do whatever the fuck I want."

"Amen to that," Dean agreed. "So, you're an AC/DC fan?"

"Oh, this? No, I think they suck," the boy said with a broad grin, flicking at the t-shirt. Dean couldn't stop the scowl from twisting his lips and the boy laughed. "I'm just screwin' with you, I think they're awesome. Last time they came through the area I even got tickets, had a whole cover story planned out so my brother and I could go see them, but our parents got wise and made us sell the tickets on StubHub and donate the money to our damn church."

"One more year," Dean said sagely. The boy nodded fervent agreement.

The teacher rose, wrote "Mr. Crowley" on the board, and harshly called the class to silence, intimidating enough that even though it was last period, no one gave him any sass in return. This time, when attendance was called, Dean listened closely. Crowley called the name "James," the boy had the nerve to call back that his name was Jimmy, Crowley pointedly ignored him and called him James the rest of the period, and Dean had his answer.

His new crush was named Jimmy Novak.

The endless days of school passed. Dean settled into the rhythm of his life in Pontiac. Every morning, he woke up at 6 and headed to their kitchen, so small it didn't even have an oven, to toss together breakfast, a lunch for Sam, and something for dinner that could be finished quickly in the microwave. That done, he woke Sam up and made sure they were both ready for the day. Sam, over-achieving genius that he was, started class at 7:45 every morning. Dean's first class wasn't 'til an hour after that, which guaranteed he had time to get his homework done. Class was an exercise in futility, since Dean was a senior and had no intention of going to college, but he sat through it and made a token effort to appear attentive, keep his grades up, and complete his work. He could hardly lecture Sammy on the importance of school if Dean ignored it himself. Besides, he'd seen the statistics on how much high school graduates earned versus how much those who dropped out earned. He'd finish high school if it fucking killed him; otherwise he didn't have a chance in hell of making enough to support Sammy through college. When school ended, Dean took Sam home or to the library and Dean went at work. Eight hours later he crawled into the house, shoveled some food in his mouth, went to bed and did it again.

The minutes of every day dragged until Dean thought they would drive him crazy yet before he knew it December had come and midterms were upon them. Sam was freaking out; Dean was less worried. He didn't have to do well, he only needed to pass. Psychology was the only class he was in danger of tanking; in retrospect Dean couldn't conceive why he'd let Sam talk him into taking an elective.

 _Just see if you like it, Dean. If you do, maybe psychology or sociology would make a good field for you to study in college!_

Sam had been so enthusiastic that Dean had been swept along. And he _did_ like it, he found it fascinating, but Crowley was an anal retentive douche bag who insisted that his students adhere strictly to the tenants of their bullshit outdated textbook. Try as he might, Dean couldn't force himself to work that way, not when he read the case studies Crowley assigned and saw so many other potential explanations for the behavior of the people involved. Crowley was unimpressed the first time Dean thought outside the box, and his grades got worse each subsequent time. Dean knew was being an obstinate idiot but he flat out fucking _refused_ to grant authority to a book that still talked about the extent to which women were prone to hysteria and declared that spectrum disorders – not called that of course – were figments of the youth's imagination.

Fuck that. Dean would rather fail the class than pretend that shit was accurate.

If he failed the class, he wouldn't graduate.

Grinding his teeth, Dean did his best to apply himself, but it was hard to concentrate. He was so damn tired. Christmas break was still three weeks away, promising Dean the greatest gift of all: two glorious days off, two perfect days when he didn't have to think about school, didn't have to stock shelves, didn't have to do anything but sit on his ass and hang out with his brother. He hadn't had a day off since August.

"Okay there, Winchester?" asked Jimmy.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Dean muttered. "Does Crowley seriously expecting us to write a case study in which we defend the premise that self-identification as a homosexual or bisexual is a sign of mental illness?"

"That's exactly what he expects," Jimmy nodded. "Sucks that you're a transfer student; all of us in his class _except_ you knew he was an asshole when we signed up and we decided it was worth it anyway. You just made a shit choice."

"If you knew, why did you take the class?"

"Looks good on my college applications," Jimmy shrugged. "Also, supposedly Crowley writes stellar recommendations for students he likes. The AP exam is a bonus. And, when we get to college, we can write an entire dissertation about all the ways this textbook is a piece of garbage. How're your applications going? Mine are a fricken _nightmare_ , I cannot wait to be done."

"Goin' great," Dean said vaguely, not really paying attention. He hated that he kept lying to the few friends he'd managed to make. Well, fuck it, not being able to tell them the truth helped keep from getting too attached. Come summer, all of them would leave for college while Dean looked for a second and third job. It'd be worth it in the end. If for some reason he wanted to, Dean could always go to school once Sam had what he needed.

"Want to meet up for a study session?" Jimmy suggested. Startled, Dean looked up to see Jimmy watching him intensely, those bright blue eyes gorgeous and curious.

"Uh...sure," Dean stuttered. He ran through his schedule for the next few days. "How about after school tomorrow?" On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Dean didn't work until 5, which gave him a couple hours to use has he would.

"Sounds like a date!"

Dean tried not to read into _that_ statement even as his cock twitched with interest. Four months had done nothing to diminish Dean's crush but he'd seen little sign that it was reciprocated. The glimmer in Jimmy's eyes was ubiquitous and didn't mean anything. They'd probably end up bitching about Crowley for two hours.

As Dean's day proceeded, he couldn't stop thinking about his planned study session with Jimmy, couldn't stop thinking about how Jimmy had jokingly called it a date. In the time they'd been friends, Dean had learned that Jimmy had a habit of saying things irreverently that he actually meant. He especially did so during math class, when he would dead-pan jokes that made even Ms. Bradbury laugh out loud. His sense of humor was one of the things that Dean liked best about his friend but now he hated it because it meant he had no idea if Jimmy had been serious or not. No amount of scolding himself for being a 15 year old girl caused the thoughts to stop and what had started as innocuous imaginings had, by the end of his boring-ass work shift, metamorphosed into a full-blown sexual fantasy.

 _Jimmy's finely honed muscles bunching and stretching as he held himself over Dean's body, their lips meeting and parting, that low voice moaning, their cocks rubbing together, bliss exploding through Dean's mind until..._

He'd masturbated in the Impala as soon as finished for the night, windows fogging, vision filled with phantom blue eyes and messy dark hair.

By the next morning, Dean had convinced himself that he was a delusion creeper. He was going to fail Crowley's class one way or the other; maybe he should cancel the plans.

"You good for this afternoon?" Dean asked nervously in math class the next morning.

Looking up and blinking at him steadily, Jimmy shrugged, tie swaying. "Yes, Dean. Everything is fine. I've made the necessary arrangements. Thank you for asking."

Dean had no _idea_ what that meant but it got his imagination roiling again. By the end of the day his nerves were so frayed he couldn't think straight, but Jimmy waited for him after Psych ended, they met in the hallway and there was no escaping.

"I was thinking my place?" Jimmy said. "It's quieter than the library. Unless you wanted us to go to yours instead?"

"God no," Dean said more sharply than he meant to. "It's...tiny. And messy. You don't want to see that. Anyway, sure, your place sounds great." _Too great, a little too great, warning, warning!_ "I just need to grab my brother and take him home first – is that okay?"

"No, you'd better ditch him," Jimmy laughed at Dean's affronted look. "Obviously it's not a problem. I'll need a ride, though. My brother is taking the car today, going to some college tour thing, I don't know what but I'm sure he'll tell me all about it later."

"I don't think I've met your brother," Dean said pensively. From what Jimmy had said and Dean had pieced together, Jimmy's brother was a junior and maybe even more of an over-achiever than Sam was, but Dean hadn't yet figured out which of the juniors at the school was the one. None of them looked anything like Jimmy. Then again, no one looked like Jimmy. Jimmy was fucking _gorgeous_ , easily the best looking guy at school.

"Well, it isn't going to happen today," said Jimmy with a wry smile. "He won't be back 'til late. Shall we?"

Half an hour of driving saw Sam installed at the apartment and Jimmy and Dean sitting on a couch in the most stereotypical living room Dean had ever seen. Everything was so proper and perfect he was surprised there wasn't a plastic cover over the sofa. When Dean said as much, Jimmy laughed. "Only when the family gets here for holidays," Jimmy supplied with a wink. "Uncle Gabriel can't be trusted not to drop candy on the upholstery. It drives our mother crazy. Anyway – shall we?"

"Alright – so – you think I should write Crowley whatever shit he wants, take my B and call it a day?" said Dean, pulling his textbook out and slapping it on the table. Focusing on the task at hand was the only way he was going to keep his head out of the gutter and his hand off of Jimmy's tantalizingly close knee.

"Studious, huh?" snorted Jimmy. "I've got a better idea than talking about that douche bag – what do you say we have a couple beers?"

"You've got beer?" Dean said. _Warning! Too tempting, too dangerous_...

"Hell yeah. I run a high class establishment here," said Jimmy with a wink. "They're warm, though, have to hide them in my bedroom."

 _...man up, Winchester, it's one damn beer, that's not even enough to get buzzed on_."Sign me up!"

Crowley's class proved much easier to talk about when Dean had the pleasant warmth of alcohol seeping through his veins. "The thing is – _the thing is_ – this whole book is bullshit," Dean smacked the cover of the book to emphasize his point. " _Especially_ this shit about gay people. Really? A mental illness? I've _seen_ mental illnesses, my dad had the whole set, addiction, depression, all that shit, and I don't care what..." He glanced at the cover before whacking it again. "...Smith here says – liking dudes doesn't make me sick."

Beside him, Jimmy started and Dean's brain caught up to his mouth. _And that's the story of how I came out to someone for the first time. Well, fuck. Way to go, can't handle one beer after all. And it jut had to be to Jimmy, beautiful, friendly, funny Jimmy who digs AC/DC and who comes to school in a suit and tie and whose parents forced him to donate money to his church and whose idea of rebellion is changing his clothes halfway through the day and changing back before going home. He's never gonna talk to me again_ —

The rest of the thought was obliterated as Jimmy surged forward, grabbed Dean's shirt and pulled Dean into a sloppy kiss. Too confused to reciprocate, Dean jerked away, bumping their noses, leaving Jimmy kissing air. Jimmy held Dean tightly enough that he couldn't escape more than a few inches, but it was enough for Dean to see the unsteadiness of Jimmy's breathing and the tears swimming in Jimmy's beautiful eyes. The hands holding Dean's shirt shook.

"Sorry," Jimmy gasped, looking away, releasing his grip, smoothing the front of Dean's clothing obsessively. "I'm sorry, that was...that was _really_ inappropriate, wasn't it, I just...aw, fuck, and now I'm like petting you or something and I..." Jimmy gave Dean's shirt one last pat and moved away. Dean reached out and grabbed Jimmy's hands, threaded their fingers together, squeezed reassuringly to try to quell Jimmy's trembling. His friend gasped again, stuttered out, "Dean!" Nothing else won free before Dean leaned forward and locked their lips together again, more calmly, more confidently, remembering to turn his head sideways so that their noses wouldn't hit. It was only a single kiss, a chaste brush of lips with no tongue. Dean retreated again and waited. "Dean?"

"That okay, Jimmy?" Dean asked breathily. Wide-eyed, Jimmy nodded. Dean leaned in and kissed him again, adding a flick of tongue. Jimmy's lips parted, Dean slipped within and heat coursed through Dean so powerfully he felt dizzy. He'd been with girls a bunch of times at his former school. Kissing them had been nice but it had never felt _right_. It had taken him a year to realize he wanted to kiss boys and two more years before he suspected that he _only_ wanted to kiss boys, but he and Sam had moved before Dean had gotten to explore that desire with his former crush, Benny. As a result, Dean hadn't ever _actually_ kissed a guy before. Part of him had worried that he'd read his feelings wrong.

Judging by his instant erection, by the warmth throbbing through his limbs, by the desire curling in his gut and practically fucking purring through his body as Jimmy relaxed against him, Dean had definitely _not_ been wrong. One kiss with Jimmy completely redefined what a kiss could be.

"Mmm," was the only reply Jimmy made to Dean's question. The sound, half moan, half invitation, shivered through Dean. The way that Jimmy pressed closer to him, dropped a hand to Dean's waist, used the other to cup Dean's cheek, spoke loudly of approval.

They didn't get any studying done. Dean was going to fail Crowley's class. With Jimmy straddling his lap, their lips locked together in desperate kisses, Dean's hand palming at Jimmy's erection awkwardly through thick denim, Jimmy's fingers fumbling at the zipper at Dean's crotch, it was impossible to give a shit about his Psych grade.

Jimmy didn't manage to get Dean's cock out but it hardly mattered. The rush of hormones and endorphins and who-the-fuck-knew-what-else coursing through Dean's body had him creaming his boxers embarrassingly quickly, fucking _screaming_ "Jimmy" as he came, and Jimmy came moments after, his voice choking and breaking as he tried and failed to say _Dean_ through his orgasm.

"Well, uh, that was awesome," Dean managed minutes later as the rush faded away.

"Yeah," Jimmy lay his sweaty brow against Dean's, eyes so close that Dean saw deep blue quadrupled by proximity. "Have I mentioned I'm pretty sure I'm gay?"

"I'd never have guessed," said Dean with a lazy smile. Slipping a hand beneath Jimmy's shirt, Dean stole an opportunity to run his fingers over the lean swimmers build he had dreamed of for months, that he had longed to see, longed to lick and kiss, longed to have stretched over him. Jimmy's flesh was lean and taut and damp with sweat and so firm, so tempting, that Dean couldn't resist kneading at it, prompting shivers through Jimmy.

"I was pretty surprised too," Jimmy said, eyes slipping closed blissfully.

"Well you know, you might still be wrong," Dean suggested. "Maybe we should test it a few more times to be sure."

"There might be some merit to your suggestion, Dr. Winchester," joked Jimmy. "We should be scientific about these things, after all. The _am I gay_ hypothesis needs to be suggested to rigorous scrutiny."

"A large number of trial runs should be completed before we say for sure – about either of us," Dean agreed sagely.

"My brother is going to kill me. He has _such_ a crush on you."

"Well, ain't you the lucky one for getting to me first?" grinned Dean, resisting the urge to shake his head in wonder that some teen he hadn't even met had a crush on him.

"Believe me, Dean, luck had _nothing_ to do with it."

* * *

More soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Dean choked back a yawn as he stumbled into class the next morning. Instead of doing his homework before first period, he'd taken a nap and he was _still_ exhausted. He and Jimmy had made out for over an hour, Dean had been late to work, his boss had forgiven him but insisted that Dean stay late to make up the time, and Dean hadn't gotten home until after 2 AM. Even then, he hadn't been able to sleep. His head was filled with the feel, the smell, the sound, the sight, the fucking _taste_ of Jimmy fucking Novak. The memories of his afternoon had been so overwhelming that Dean had stayed up even later fantasizing and stroking himself and nearly choking himself with a pillow so he wouldn't moan aloud and bother his brother.

Taking his usual seat, Dean gave Jimmy a grin and a wink, though another yawn detracted from the effect. Jimmy stared at him impassively, head quirked slightly to one side, eyes blinking slowly. The longer the moment stretched out without any other reaction, the more confused Dean got.

 _Wait, I'm being an idiot, we're at school and he's not out of the closet. Fuck, I'm not out either. Gootta play it cool. I can always ask him after Psych, see if everything is still okay, find out if he wants to do that again._

 _I hope he wants to do that again._

 _Fuck, I hope he wants to do so much more than that. Is it too soon to get lube?_

"Did you have fun studying yesterday, Dean?" asked Jimmy abruptly. His voice was still dead-pan and flat. Dude was a _way_ better actor than Dean.

"A fantastic time," Dean agreed, doing his damnedest to sound like he was actually talking about studying. "How about you, did you have...fun?"

"Yes, I had a very nice afternoon. I—"

"Come on, boys, we're not here to flirt, we're here to learn math," Ms. Bradbury interrupted them with a brilliant smile that practically glowed through her green eyes.

* * *

Tuesdays and Thursdays were the only days Dean could manage "study sessions" between school and work. Those two days a week became Dean's absolute fucking _favorite_. Sure, his grades in Crowley's class didn't improve and Dean barely scratched a passing grade on his midterm, but his stress levels went way down. Suddenly, the rest of the school year seemed surmountable. Dean wasn't sure about after that. Whenever Jimmy talked about college Dean slipped into his happy place rather than let himself hear the reminders that, come August, Jimmy would be leaving.

Jimmy was _awesome_. He was funny, interesting, hot as fuck, adventurous; he was everything Dean wanted in a boyfriend. Nonetheless, Dean kept his secrets, kept his distance. He preferred being close-mouthed to lying. So, when they talked about college, Dean spoke in vague terms. When he spoke about his family, he dodged, sticking to half-truths that had once been actual truths. When he had to explain why he had a job, he hedged, said the money was for college. It wasn't a complete lie, it _was_ for college, just not his own.

 _This isn't a real relationship. This is a senior fling. When it's done, he'll leave and I'll stay and..._

 _...and nurse this fucking broken heart._

 _But Jimmy'll be okay. How attached can the guy possibly get to me?_

That morning at school, Dean was too excited to keep his mouth shut. The supermarket was going to be closed on Easter which meant that Dean had an actual, honest to God _break_ , and he knew exactly how he wanted to spend it. Or part of it, anyway. The afternoon would be spent with Sammy, making a meal, stuffing their faces with chocolate left by "the Easter bunny." But the morning? The morning was all Dean's. Jimmy's family was pretty religious but Dean was optimistic that he'd be able to escape and they'd get some honest-to-God privacy. Dean had enough money saved for a few hours in a motel and, after psyching himself up for months, he thought he'd found the nerve to ask Jimmy for what he really wanted. They'd given each other countless hand jobs and blow jobs, but Dean craved that beautiful lean body stretched atop his, their skin rubbing together as Jimmy's cock pressed inside Dean's hole. A bottle of lube was stashed in Dean's bedside table and he'd tentatively been practicing prepping himself like he'd seen actors do in porno, using his fingers to work himself open, to stretch himself and slick himself for a cock. It felt fucking _amazing_ , and he knew he hadn't even gotten to the good part – he hadn't been able to find his prostate. Messing around with Jimmy would feel even better, Dean was sure. Everything felt better when Dean did it with Jimmy.

"Easter morning," Dean said without preamble as soon as he walked into math class. "Are you busy?"

"Not usually," Jimmy answered, brow furrowed in confusion. "Church is in the evening at our congregation. We visit my grandparents for the Easter meal, and my mother does a little cooking but does not require help. Generally, nothing is expected of my brother and I until we leave at noon. Why?"

"I was hoping to see you," Dean said in a rush. "And maybe...you know...do something? Just the two of us?"

Sweat dampened Dean's spine as the silence stretched out. A single chill bead trickled down until it soaked into his shirt, another beginning to coalesce. Jimmy looked in turn baffled, curious, interested, uncertain, troubled, before he finally nodded, a faint smile ghosting over his lips.

 _Oh, the things I've seen those lips do..._

Dean swallowed hard.

"Where would we go? It's a holiday morning, won't every place be closed?" asked Jimmy.

"I know this motel..." Dean blushed and looked away. "I could pick you up at 8? I know it's pretty early, but that way we'll have some time..."

"That sounds..." Dean flicked his gaze up nervously to see Jimmy blushing too, biting his lip in a way that made Dean crave a kiss. "That sounds nice. I'd like that."

A sigh of relief drained all the tension from Dean's shoulders, though it didn't stop a second trail of sweat streaking down his back. Now that he was done being nervous about asking Jimmy to a motel with him, he had a full week to panic about asking his not-exactly-a-boyfriend to fuck him in the ass.

Should be a _fantastic_ week.

* * *

They didn't discuss their plans again, didn't mention it in math or in psychology, didn't talk about it during their usual Tuesday and Thursday afternoon trysts. Dean's nerves made both days depressingly awkward. Having resolved to ask for what he wanted, it was even harder to keep his mouth shut. He felt even more like a liar. However, he was determined to wait. He didn't want to ask when there wasn't time to do the deed if Jimmy said yes.

"Dean, is everything okay?" asked Jimmy, eyeing him nervously as they prepared to part on the Novak's pristine, white-painted porch.

"Yeah, yeah, everything is great, I'm just nervous about Easter," Dean admitted. Instantly, he started cursing himself. He didn't want to talk about that, didn't want to confess he was anything other than cool and confident.

Instead of the feared joke at his expense, Jimmy leaned forward and hugged him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were in public. "I know things aren't great with your family," Jimmy murmured reassuringly in his ear. "I know you don't like to talk about it. One of these days, I hope you'll trust me and open up, but no pressure. Until you're ready...I'm sure Easter will be fine. And you can call me any time if things _don't_ go fine. Okay?"

"Thanks, Jimmy," Dean breathed back, hugging him close. _I wish I could tell you everything_. _I wish I even knew why I don't feel like I can tell you everything._ "I'll see you soon."

Jimmy brushed a kiss along the curve of Dean's chin. "The holiday will pass before we know it. Don't work too hard, Dean."

* * *

Dean's nerves were firing on all cylinders when he pulled the Impala up to the tidy Colonial the Novak's called home at 7:45 on Easter morning. What had he been _thinking_ , making a big deal of this? He should have handled it suavely, let it appear like it was a natural outgrowth of a make out session or something instead of turning it into an entire production, instead of making it clear he'd been obsessing about doing this for fricken weeks. Jimmy was going to think Dean was freaking out over nothing. Of course, Dean _was_ freaking out over nothing – _I'm going to ask Jimmy to stick his cock in my virgin ass, anyone would be freaking out, right?_ – but he didn't want Jimmy to think he was.

It would make Dean feel so much worse if Jimmy said no.

Fortunately, Jimmy came out within minutes of Dean pulling up. He was dressed in his usual morning best – ironed slacks, button up shirt that, today, was in pale yellow, and a tie in an attractive shade of pale pink. The two pastels combined made it look like Jimmy had planned the outfit specifically for Easter, and _didn't_ look like he'd planned for a date. In place of his usual silver stud or spike, he wore a small silver cross through his ear. Dean's heart raced so fast he thought he might hyperventilate.

 _It's not like he's trying to send me some kind of message about sin and gay sex and any of that, it's Easter day, he always has to do shit like that for his family, but fuck, isn't that just what I needed: God judging me on top of everything else._

"Good morning, Dean," said Jimmy solemnly. "You don't look well. Are you alright?"

"Fine," Dean lied. He could still back out. Just because he had the lube and condoms in the pocket of his leather jacket, just because he'd been practicing fingering himself for a week – _more like a month, way to lie to yourself Winchester_ – to see what it felt like, just because he had pre-booked the motel room, just because Jimmy was sitting in his car, hands folded demurely in his lap over his seatbelt, didn't mean that Dean had to go forward with his plan.

With a deep breath and a harsh internal resolution to not be a fucking pussy no matter what he intended to ask to have shoved where, Dean put the car in gear.

 _Never did get anything I wanted when I didn't ask for it._

 _Never got anything I wanted when I did ask, either, but fuck it_.

The motel room was dingy and smelled of lemon cleaner. Everything was clean. That was about the best he could say for it. The carpet was threadbare and worn, the bathroom tiles were broken in some places and missing in others, and the bed squeaked when Dean sat down on it heavily. Jimmy followed Dean hesitantly, watching his every move with uncertainty, curiosity and, above all, unmistakable hunger.

"Uh…it's nothing bad, you know," Dean said. Jimmy's unusual degree of reticence did much to dissipate Dean's nerves, leaving him hesitant but oddly calm. "Like, I wouldn't ask you to a motel to, I dunno, break up with you or something."

"Does that mean…we're…boyfriends?" Jimmy asked uncertainly. Dean colored.

"If…I mean…if you wanted to be, I guess…it's been months, right?"

"…I'd been wondering about that." Jimmy licked his lips but didn't budge from his rigid placement by the door. He'd never seen Jimmy so cautious, so anxious. How could this be the same boy who'd kissed Dean the instant he found out Dean _might_ be interested in men? Watching Jimmy reminded Dean of how Sam shifted his feet and looked away when he was feeling shy and freaked out, and every instinct in Dean that screamed "protect" and "soothe" kicked in. Rising from the bed accompanied by the shriek of bed springs, Dean crossed the room, placed a hand on each of Jimmy's cheeks and kissed him gently.

"We don't have to do anything at all," Dean said softly against his lips. Jimmy shivered, beautiful eyes slipping shut, but he didn't return the kiss. "Did something happen with your family? I can take you home if you'd prefer, or we can cuddle on the bed, watch a movie – I think TNT has an all-day marathon of the Ten Commandments." Jimmy flinched. "Or anything else you want." Instead of fixing whatever was troubling Jimmy, instead of finding the answer to ease him, Dean felt like everything he said made things worse. Jimmy was quivering with inexplicable tension. Dean pressed another kiss to Jimmy's lips, earned a happy sigh but still no kiss in return.

"Why did you ask me here, Dean?" asked Jimmy.

Taking a step back, Dean raked a hand through his hair and tried to quell the shaking of his hand, tried to beat the butterflies in his stomach into submission, but he had no luck. _The only way out is forward_ …"You, uh, you seem to enjoy our time together…" Dean trailed off and gave Jimmy a hopeful look.

"Our study sessions?" _There_ was the desire, raw and pure, causing Jimmy's cheeks to pink, his pupils to dilate, his nostrils to flare. Relieved, Dean nodded.

"Right," Dean said. "I was thinking…we've done a lot of things together, like, awesome things, but we haven't done…others…and I wanted to…I mean…" He took a deep breath and tried again. "We can't go to my place, and I'm sure it felt weird to you to think about doing anything…like that…when your parents or your brother might walk in at any moment." Another flinch. They'd never talked about the risks of messing around at Jimmy's house, but Dean took Jimmy's reaction as confirmation and felt another burst of relief. _I don't completely suck at understanding his motivations, it's something at least…_ "I know my schedule doesn't make it easy, and I'm sorry about that—"

"You don't need to apologize, I know how hard you work to support your family – it's one of the things I l…like about you," Jimmy flushed as he interrupted. Judging by hot heated his flesh felt, Dean thought he must be red from his nipples to the roots of his brown hair.

"—anyway what I'm saying is, I had time today and I wanted to spend it with you," Dean finished in a rush.

"So…" Jimmy turned, if possible, even darker. "What did you have in mind?" The red of his cheeks brought out the blue of his eyes and reminded Dean arousingly of the times he'd seen Jimmy most turned on, when Jimmy had begged Dean to suck him harder, had curled his hands into Dean's hair and thrust desperately into Dean's mouth before coming and coating Dean's tongue, his cheeks, his lips, his chin with semen.

The memory was _exactly_ what Dean needed, shoving aside the lingering awkwardness, leaving desire heavy in its wake. The tent at the front of Jimmy's slacks didn't hurt, either. "Anal," Dean said. Jimmy's legs instantly squeezed more closely together and Dean laughed. _My boyfriend is too damn cute. My_ boyfriend _…yeah, I like that…man I'm screwed…will he even miss me when he leaves for college?_ "No, no, not that…I want…" The words wouldn't come. Dean was hot and hard and longing and could literally fucking _see_ the color and tension draining from Jimmy's face and tense body, and despite that he couldn't flat out say what he wanted.

 _Alright, let's try show without the tell…_

Taking a shuddering breath, Dean took the lube from the pocket of his leather jacket. Returning to the bedside, Dean unfastened his jeans as he walked and pulled them down over his ass he bent at the waist. His chest pressed into the bed, his butt sticking up into the air, his feet planted on the ground, his legs spread wide. His jeans slipped down and caught at his knees. Not being able to see Jimmy was both maddeningly and heartening; without those eyes drilling through him Dean could focus and push aside his nerves every time they attempted to rise and cascade out of control. All he knew of Jimmy's reaction was a hissed intake of breath, the sound of hard-soled shoes brushing against the cheap carpeting. Squeezing a dollop of lube onto his fingers, Dean reached back and smeared it over his rim. The pleasure of the touch mingled with his fears and he whimpered, craving more, craving the touch of his beautiful boyfriend. Before his nervousness could overcome him, he pressed one finger into himself. When he'd tried this alone at home, it felt good, teasing, promising more tingling pleasure if only he could get the right angle, find the right thickness. Now, he felt like he was afire, Jimmy's gaze a spark that ignited him to urgent need. The thought of having Jimmy inside him spurred Dean on; he pressed his finger in deeply and moaned, the tight muscles of his rims fluttering.

A hand fell on the small of his back and Dean writhed at the touch, his moan lengthening and deepening.

"Shh, it's okay, this is…" Jimmy swallowed audibly. "This is okay, this is very okay. Keep going…" Encouraged, heartened – _Jimmy does want this too, he doesn't think I'm a freak, thank fucking God_ – Dean teased at his rim with a second finger, felt the hand on his back twitch and tense, heard Jimmy's breath quickening and Dean imagined the intensity with which Jimmy watched, imagined what Jimmy wanted, prayed fucking _God_ it was what Dean wanted, and—

There was a knock on the door.

Dean's body tensed, his ass clenching so tight he forced the finger from himself. "We don't need housekeeping!" he managed in strangled tones. Why would they even knock? He had the room booked for four hours!

"It's not housekeeping." Even muffled by the door, the voice was low, amused, and deliciously, suspiciously familiar. It was Jimmy's voice. The hand disappeared from Dean's back, there was a thump as Jimmy literally _jumped_ and squeaked. Profoundly embarrassed and very confused, Dean scrambled to get the blanket around his exposed cock and ass but before he could cover himself, the door opened and Dean froze as a burst of chill air brushed over his bare skin.

"Oh." Dean had no idea who said the single embarrassed word, mumbled like a confession.

"You've been holding out on me," said Jimmy's voice, scolding. The door closed again and with the sharp clatter of it, Dean's momentary immobility disappeared; he seized the blanket in a fist and dragged it around himself, twisting around to see what the hell was going on, angry words springing to his lips.

"What the—"

"Not you, Dean." Jimmy stood by the door wearing a nice pair of jeans, a plain t-shirt, and his usual spike through his ear.

Jimmy also stood at the foot of the bed, in slacks and a button down and tie and his fucking cross earring, toeing at the carpet, hands behind his back, looking ashamed as he stared at the curtains, the clapboard table, anywhere but at Dean or at the other Jimmy.

 _Two_ Jimmy's. Dean's jaw dropped, his brain flooding with incredulous words that he couldn't force out past shock and chagrin.

"I'm sorry, brother," mumbled tie-wearing Jimmy.

"Not as sorry as you will be," replied jeans-wearing Jimmy darkly.

"What the _fuck_?" Dean managed to splutter shrilly. Both turned towards him, identical blue-eyed gazes, identical delicate flush of pink to their cheeks, but with very different reactions – one chewing a lip as if caught with his fucking hand in a cookie jar – _yes, his hand was in MY fucking cookie jar!_ – and the other with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"I _told_ you he didn't realize," tie-wearing Jimmy said sheepishly.

"So, Dean, when you asked my brother to a motel this morning—"

"No, your brother is a junior, he was looking at colleges and—"

"Dean, when you asked _my brother_ to a motel this morning, you really _didn't_ realize he wasn't me?" There was a laugh thick in Jimmy's voice, but Dean was too shell-shocked to see anything funny in their situation. "And brother – you knew the rules, yet you didn't even tell me about this meeting?"

" _Two_ of you?"

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," said tie-wearing Jimmy – _not Jimmy, definitely not Jimmy, how the hell didn't I notice the differences?_ "But you do owe me $20 now."

"That's a good point – Dean, I'm out twenty bucks because of you," Jimmy crossed the room to stand beside his brother, both towering over where Dean sat on the bed wrapped in a pink floral polyester blanket, the fading wisps of arousal draining away as surely as the lube made a cold line down his thigh as it leaked from his ass. "My brother is _nothing like me_ and you sit in class next to him _every day_ and you _didn't realize_? Ms. Bradbury must take fucking _attendance_ , didn't you notice even once that the name she called out wasn't _Jimmy_?"

"After the first day she only called out last names," Dean mumbled, feeling more and more like a monumental idiot. "But…no, but you said things that I hadn't told you…I mean…Jimmy, there were things you said to me, that _he_ knew, and…" Dizziness washed over him.

 _This isn't happening, this can't be happening, things like this_ do not happen _in real life. God knows I've had enough wet dreams about Jimmy, him having a twin would be the fucking icing on the cake, numero uno hottest thing imaginable. This is a dream. I'm going to wake up and it's going to be Easter morning and—_

"Brother! You were watching, weren't you?" said Jimmy. Fighting through his disorientation, Dean tried to identify the emotions in that demanding question – annoyance, affection, wryness, and…coyness?

Not-Jimmy flushed bright red and Dean noticed for the first time that, unlike Dean's flagging erection, Not-Jimmy's cock was still making an impressive bulge at the front of his pants. "Wouldn't you have?" countered Not-Jimmy, and the tone of his voice was definitely coy. Jimmy nodded thoughtfully, and Not-Jimmy's posture relaxed.

 _No, no, no, no, brothers, brothers don't…but it's TWINS, man, it's like the fucking jackpot. Jimmy is fuckin' smoking hot, and whatever-his-name-is…Not-Jimmy is_ equally _smoking hot, except with an added "I'm a good boy, come on and corrupt me" vibe going on_. _Shit, that's…_

Dean licked his lips and both turned to him, the intensity of their matching hungry looks breath-taking.

 _Not impossible. Maybe not impossible. Possibly actually happening. Fuckin' hell_ …

"So, Dean," Jimmy said conversationally, taking a seat next to Dean on the bed, trailing a hand down his back that Dean could hardly feel for the thick blanket wrapped around him like armor. "Why did you invite…me…to a motel?"

"Well, uh, ya know, I was kinda hoping to have sex with you," confessed Dean in a rush. "If you wanted…" He couldn't bring himself to look up, couldn't bring himself to risk seeing both twins. If they knew what he was thinking they'd _both_ storm out and he'd be left with his sticky ass and his once-again-thickening cock and his dirty thoughts and a bottle of lube and no one to touch him.

"We have sex twice a week," Jimmy pointed out patiently. "We don't need a motel room to do that. Were you unhappy with our current arrangement?"

"He wanted you to fuck him in the ass, brother," deadpanned Not-Jimmy, inflection and tone _identical_ to the way he described the differential equations that he always got the right answer on.

"That's what I walked in on, when you were bent over the bed?" Jimmy's eyes went wide, surprise evident. He flicked his gaze to his brother, then back to Dean. "Is that true, Dean?" Dean nodded, mortified, even as his cock hardened against the blanket cloth. Heat pooled in his gut, combined with his shame, and far from leaving him soft, it drove him higher. He felt…good. His embarrassment grew, and with it his arousal, until Dean was completely hard and completely mixed up and completely desperate for Jimmy to touch him. As if reading his damn mind, Jimmy smiled, his hand slipped beneath the blanket where it bunched at Dean's shoulders, trailed gently down Dean's back, tugging the comforter down as he went. Watching Dean's reaction closely, Jimmy's smile widened, and he asked, "Do you still want that?"

"…yes…" The word came out as a strangled whisper. Not-Jimmy gasped, inhalation mingling with something that resembled a moan, and Dean's heart rate jumped again. Jimmy broke into a grin, bending his arm to shuck the blanket from around Dean. One finger finding the bare skin of Dean's ass and teasing at his crack. Dean's arms went limp, the folds of the comforter shifted from his body to reveal his erection to the cool air of the room, and Jimmy leaned forward and kissed him reassuringly. Warmth and comfort coursed through Dean. Jimmy didn't think he was fucking weird, not for being here, not for mistaking the twins for each other, not for wanting this, not for anything.

 _I never want this to end_.

"And brother…" Jimmy broke off the kiss and pressed his forehead to Dean's, voice breathy, wrapping one arm around Dean's waist, as the other cradling Dean's ass and teased at him in a way that sent sparks of heat and light skittering through Dean's body and his thoughts. "You were prepared to do that for him?"

"Can you blame me?" said Not-Jimmy, equally breathless. Curious, Dean half-turned his head to take in a view of the oh-so-proper twin, standing beside the bed. Not-Jimmy was staring at them and palming his erection. Dean shuddered and a whisper of a moan escaped him. The hand clasping Dean's ass squeezed one of his cheeks.

"Not at all," Jimmy's words passed hot over Dean's face. "It's been all I can do not to bend him over at home. If I'd known you were watching, brother, I would have." Not-Jimmy whimpered and Dean followed suit, biting his lip in a failed attempt to restrain the sound. Jimmy's gaze went liquid and dark as the two sounds combined erotically. One finger flicked hesitantly over Dean's pucker and Dean shuddered. "Is this alright with you, Dean?"

 _Oh, fuck yeah, this is so alright, this is…no, no, be sure what you're agreeing to; upstairs brain, use your damn upstairs brain._

"Is what, exactly, alright with me?"

By way of answer, the hand around Dean's waist slipped down to Dean's crotch to curl loosely around his cock, a fingertip pressed into his hole. Without being quite what Jimmy was attempting to accomplish, Dean followed Jimmy's silent cues to shift and move until, surrounded by the crumpled heap of the blanket, Dean hovered on his knees, one of Jimmy's fingers filling him to the knuckle, as Jimmy pressing a jeans-clad erection against Dean's crack. Not-Jimmy stood before them, staring, and Dean watched him pant and palm himself harder as Jimmy lazily stroked Dean's cock and rutted against his back.

"Is _this_ alright?" Jimmy repeated. "If I give you what you want…fuck, I've wanted you too, Dean, wanted you so bad, but I didn't know how to ask…if I spread you open while my brother watches…would that be alright?"

 _I should be really pissed off about all this. They lied to me. Jimmy obviously suspected how fucking clueless I was. Not-Jimmy_ knew _I thought they were the same person. He let me bring him to this motel, he was going to fuck me, he's been a creepy damn voyeur the whole time Jimmy and I have been messing around. I should be fucking furious, and instead I'm so fucking turned on I can't fucking think straight._

Dean wanted to feel Jimmy inside him, wanted to wrap his lips around Not-Jimmy's cock, wanted both of them to thrust into him until he'd be screaming if his mouth wasn't so stuffed full of thick, throbbing, hot dick.

 _This is so unbelievable alright._

"Do it," Dean gasped. "Aw, fuck…please, Jimmy…please…shit, what the hell is your name?"

Laughing uproariously, Jimmy's supporting weight shifted from behind him, left Dean exposed front and back to the piercing gaze of the brother. Trembling, Dean listened to the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered, cloth being shifted, a hand patting the bed followed by a triumphant cry. Not-Jimmy grinned too, wolfish, continuing to palm at his cock. "Maybe," there was a squirting sound, "if you're really good," a wet finger pressed against Dean's ass, "I'll tell you my brother's name."

Jimmy's calm, in control façade cracked as he slowly filled Dean for the first time, broke as he moaned in desperate pleasure and babbled about how unbelievably good it felt to sink himself into Dean's ass. Not-Jimmy's eyes flicked between Dean's face and Jimmy's, watched them both, panted breathlessly as he scrambled to free his cock from his pants. He moaned in relief when he succeeded, when he touched and teased himself, when he stood and stared and stroked himself in tempo to Jimmy's ragged, awkward, inexperienced thrusts. Dean quivered with bliss as Jimmy's cock passed over his prostate over and over again, the feeling beyond anything Dean had dreamed of.

Jimmy's hand stroked Dean's cock and Not-Jimmy's eyes trailing from their faces to watch those strokes with desperate hunger, licking his lips. Gasping pleas and entreaties and promises into Dean's neck, Jimmy came embarrassingly quickly, spent himself with uncontrolled thrusts and dissolved boneless against Dean's back, hand going limp over Dean's cock, too pleasured to heed as Dean begged for more, begged for touch to push him over the edge. The thought of stroking himself was inexplicably beyond comprehension. Dean didn't want to touch himself; he wanted Jimmy to touch him, he needed Not-Jimmy to touch him. Not-Jimmy took in Dean's liquid, unfocused gaze, nervously licked his lips, walked to stand beside the bed, and reached towards Dean's cock while looking to Jimmy for permission.

"Do it," Jimmy whispered. Staring awed at Dean's face, Not-Jimmy gently wrapped his fingers around Dean's cock, stroked Dean tentatively but with increasing confidence, stroked himself with his other hand, and whispered a constant stream of praise.

"You're beautiful, Dean, thought so since the first day of school, wanted you so much, was so disappointed when you chose Jimmy instead of me, I was so jealous I just had to see you, I had to watch. You're so smart, you're so special, you so hard working, you're incredible. I knew it was wrong to watch you and Jimmy but I didn't have the strength to resist, got off so many times watching him touch you, listening to the two of you moan, imagining you were both touching me…" Not-Jimmy broke off with a moan and Jimmy picked up the thread without missing a beat. The endless praise, filth, temptation and sweetness whispered into Dean's ear was unbelievable arousing, went on and on until Dean came, one hand caught in the buttons of Not-Jimmy's shirt, the other with nails digging in to the back of Jimmy's palm. Completely spent, the three of them collapsed together onto the bed, bodies tangling.

"Not letting you go, Dean," Jimmy vowed. "Never letting you go…"

"Perfect…absolutely perfect…you're perfect…that was perfect…" The phrases came one on top of the other, enveloping Dean. Their voices were so similar that Dean had no idea which twin spoke and he couldn't bring himself to care. They lay still, cuddling close, Dean exchanging lazy kisses with each brother in turn until the alarm Dean had set on his cell chimed that their time was up.

In retrospect, as Dean lay in bed that night, stomach full of Easter ham, his ass aching pleasantly, Dean couldn't help but think that the whole fucking morning had been a really amazing dream.

He'd thought he was dating one brother and that he'd never met the other. Now that he knew them both, recognized them each for who they'd been all along, it fit together naturally, settled comfortably into his thoughts that, after a fashion, he'd been dating both all along. Every morning when he'd spoken to Not-Jimmy, he'd done so thinking he was speaking to someone he was… _with_ …even if he had refused to think of it as a "relationship" until that morning. And every afternoon, when he'd spoken to Jimmy, he'd thought the same. Without realizing it, he'd had two boyfriends. If they were cool with it – which they seemed to be, remarkably so – then there was no reason he couldn't be cool with it too.

 _Aw, fuck, does that mean it's going to hurt twice as badly when they both leave for college?_

* * *

"Hey Jimmy, hey..." Jo noticed that Dean was sitting with the twins, gave Jimmy a wink and said, "Not-Jimmy. You good?"

"I guess," grumbled Dean. Somehow, everyone at school found out about the fiasco with the twins. Not the sex part, that had stayed a secret, but the part where Dean had been in class with the brothers for almost eight months without figuring out they were different people. "Somehow" had something to do with Jimmy, though how he'd put the word out was beyond Dean. Everyone, including Not-Jimmy, thought it was hilarious and went along with it. If Dean were in Not-Jimmy's position, he thought it'd drive him nuts to have people not call him by name – like, what would they call him, Not-Sam? The thought prompted a shudder every time Dean imagined it. But Not-Jimmy took it all with a smile, a smile that invariable melted Dean's heart and caused any annoyance he felt to disappear. The twins were gorgeous, and into him, and fucking amazing, and every day Dean's heart grew heavier. Today, it was the heaviest yet.

"Have you decided where to go to college?" asked Jimmy, flipping through a pile of brightly colored pamphlets.

"West Point," said Jo with a grin. "Good luck with your decision, boys." She gave them a mocking salute and walked boldly down the halls towards the school exit.

Not-Jimmy sighed. "Alright, let's go over this again..."

"Must we?" Dean grumbled. The twins had been through the pamphlets a dozen times. They'd each gotten in to six schools – fucking brilliant assholes – of which they had four in common. There was no question that they'd go to the same school, so those four made their short list: Illinois State, Chapel Hill, IU and UT. Dean had managed to dodge all their questions, saying he wasn't worried about where he went, but an hour of their limited time together spent going over this for the umpteenth time instead of banging at the was wearing away at Dean's last nerve. It was May, AP Exams were in a week, prom was in a month, college, for those going to college, would be starting in three months, and the end of summer promised the end of everything that had enabled Dean to get through his first year pretending to be an adult.

"What do you think of this one, Dean?" asked Not-Jimmy seriously, passing Dean a pamphlet. The front showed a beaming student holding an armful of textbooks standing before a red brick building surrounded by green grass and the bright leaves of a tree. "Welcome to Heartlands Community College! A Place For Everyone!" read across the top in friendly lettering.

"Community college? You two?" snorted Dean incredulously. "Are you fricken kidding me? You're way too smart for this crap. You guys should go to Chapel Hill, isn't it supposed to be, like, amazing?"

"Screw that, we're going to Illinois State," said Jimmy. "They've got a good business school and a good art school – so they work for both of us – and it's close enough that we can live at home."

"What, really? Why the fuck would you want to stay here?" Dean said, tossing the pamphlet negligently back into the pile. Not-Jimmy pulled it out again and held it out again, glancing sidelong at his brother. "I mean, I get that you're from Pontiac, but don't let that hold you back. You two can do whatever the fuck you want. Isn't Chapel Hill one of the best schools in the country? And it's far away from your parents."

"Our parents don't bother us that much," said Not-Jimmy. "Has parents go, they're pretty harmless."

"They said if we went to a state school, they'd get us a car and maybe help with grad school," added Jimmy. "When we mentioned living at home, they threw in a sizeable allowance, too. Apparently, the amount they'll save on room and board is astronomical. How can we turn down an offer like that?"

"We can always leave in four years, when we finish school," Not-Jimmy shrugged.

 _Four years, when Sam finishes high school. That's when I can leave, too. It'd be nice if they stayed. But it's all a pipedream. It'll only forestall the inevitable._

"This pamphlet isn't for us," Jimmy said, trading the narrative back to his brother.

"We got this for you, Dean. Did you really think we wouldn't figure out that you're not planning to go to school?" There was a scolding note to Not-Jimmy's voice as he smiled gently at Dean.

"And seriously, Dean, that's a stupid choice," said Jimmy. "You're as smart as we are. You're gonna rock your AP in Calculus next week."

"We understand that money is likely an issue," added Not-Jimmy despite a poorly-masked scowl from Jimmy, "but we can help."

"Absolutely not," Dean cut in, holding up a hand before Jimmy could say anything more. "I'm not taking your charity and I'm not letting you fuck up your lives to help me out."

"It's not going to mess our lives up," said Not-Jimmy patiently.

"Anyway, where we go to school is not your choice to make," Jimmy continued. "We think this is a good option for us. The fact that it keeps us close to you is an added bonus." The way Jimmy made it sound like a perk – and not a particularly exciting one – hurt badly and only confirmed that Dean was right to try to send them away. Once they started going to school, they'd meet people way more interesting than Dean, and then...he couldn't bring himself to think about it.

"I have to go to work," Dean snapped. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Grabbing his backpack, ignoring the pamphlet that Not-Jimmy was still holding towards him, Dean stormed away.

"That went well," he heard one of them say to his retreating back.

* * *

Dean stewed all night.

 _How dare they plan my future that way? How dare they offer me money like a fucking charity case from their church? How dare they..._

 _...what? How dare they want to help me? How dare they want to stay near me? How dare they want to improve my future? How dare they call me smart? How dare they care about me?_

None of his angry thoughts could swamp out the happy glow that burned in his heart when he thought about them staying. None of his happy thoughts could quell his guilt that they might actually considering endangering their futures in order to stay in Pontiac. No amount of pointing out to himself that he wasn't the _only_ reason for their decision could deter his instinct that said he was a deciding factor or his simultaneous, contradictory fears that he was actually irrelevant. By the time he finished work, he wasn't sure who he was angriest with: himself, Jimmy or Not-Jimmy.

Exhausted, Dean finished mopping the floors and scrubbing down the counters a little after one in the morning. Flicking off the lights, Dean stepped outside, locked the door and lowered the grate over the windows of the convenience store.

"Hello, Dean."

"Christ, Ji—" Dean wheeled around, heart pounding in his ears. As soon as he looked, he knew it wasn't Jimmy. Dressed in pajamas, features partially obscured by the dark, earring hidden, Dean no longer needed clothing to tell him which twin was which, Not-Jimmy's bearing named him. Dean was pretty sure he could differentiate Jimmy from Not-Jimmy blind-folded. He might yet have to; Jimmy had threatened to play a guessing game with him if they ever had a day with just the three of them. "What are you doing here, Not-Jimmy? It's not safe this late."

"But you're fine?" asked Not-Jimmy.

"I'm a familiar face here, no one is going to mess with me," said Dean, repressing a yawn. "You're unfamiliar and you're standing around in your PJs. How'd you even get here?"

"I biked, same way I get most places," Not-Jimmy shrugged. "Jimmy's pretty upset. I suppose I am, too, but I handle reverses better than he does."

"Is that why you don't mind me calling you Not-Jimmy during sex?" Dean asked. "Let's get your bike in the Impala, I'll drive you home."

"I don't mind you calling me Not-Jimmy during sex first, because it's true – I'm not Jimmy," said Not-Jimmy in the flat way that Dean had grown to love so much. "And because you get the cutest look on your face when you say it, when your eyes are wide and green and your jaw slack and sweat is matting your hair down and beading down your forehead, when I see the hope flare that maybe this time I'll relent and tell you what my name actually is."

 _...grown to love?_

"Will you ever?" groused Dean to cover the flush to his cheeks and the burst of affection in his breast.

"Dean, we've accepted that you don't want us to talk to your brother, that you won't invite us over to your home, that you'll dodge any personal question and hedge your bets by saying what you think we want to hear, that you don't want to come out of the closet by going to prom, that you have no explanation for why your parents don't come to Parent-Teacher conferences, that you have to work two jobs and seven days a week even though you're only 18 and even though you insist everything is fine," Not-Jimmy listed the litany of topics Dean had lied about and Dean flinched with each addition to the list. "We accept all of that because we care about you and because, despite the lies, we know that you trust us. Your reasons for not telling are your own. We've been completely honest with you, Dean, in every way but this one. I will tell you my name Saturday—"

"I work on Saturday!" Dean snapped, grabbing the bicycle roughly from where it leaned against the building and carrying it to the Impala's large trunk.

"—if, before your shift, you'll go with me to take a tour of Heartland Community College," Not-Jimmy concluded.

"Come on, are you kidding? It's too late to apply anyway!" Dean opened the back of the car and shoved the bike inside.

"Their deadline is June 1st," said Not-Jimmy calmly, as if Dean wasn't acting like a monumental asshole, which only made him feel even _more_ like a monumental asshole.

"Wow, you checked out everything about them, didn't you," said Dean, getting in on the driver's side and leaning across the front seat to let Not-Jimmy into the car. "If you like them so much, why don't _you_ go there?"

"All I'm asking is two hours, Dean," said Not-Jimmy as he took his seat and put his seatbelt on. "If you don't want to apply after that, you don't have to. Two hours, a tour around campus, a look at their course catalog – and I'll tell you my name. My brother will come too, if you want."

Dean started the car in silence, drove them home in absolute quiet aside from the hum of the Impala's engine. His thoughts continued to roil and he was unspeakably grateful that Not-Jimmy didn't keep pushing. When Jimmy got nervous, he started talking and didn't stop, but Not-Jimmy was content to leave Dean alone with his contradictory thoughts.

 _I've lied to them so much, trusted them so little, and they still care about me. I don't understand. It makes no sense. It makes me want them and care about them so much more, convinces me so much more that I don't deserve them. They've asked so little of me. I can do this for Not-Jimmy, it's only two hours before work. I'm not promising to go to school when I can't afford it, I'm not promising anything._

They pulled up outside the Novak household, all the lights off for the night, and Not-Jimmy murmured his thanks as he undid his seatbelt and opened the door.

"I'll do it," muttered Dean.

"What was that?" asked Not-Jimmy, turning a pensive frown on him.

"I said, I'll do it. I'll go Saturday morning."

A smile like a fucking sunrise broke over Not-Jimmy's face and Dean's heart throbbed again. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

"Jimmy," Dean moaned. Jimmy had an arm around Dean's shoulders, holding them close face to face, both their cocks wrapped in his hand as he stroked them urgently. Dean's voice echoed through the pristinely clean tiled bathroom.

"So proud of you," murmured two voices in his ear. "The next four years are going to be amazing," Jimmy added.

Something hard pressed against Dean's entrance and he moaned again, desperate, but he couldn't press back without dislodging Jimmy's grip on them both. "Say my name, Dean."

"Not...Jimmy..." The hard tip teased at him without pressing in. "Oh, fuck, please..."

"Say it."

"I...I don't know...no one will tell me...please... _please_..."

Taking mercy on him, Not-Jimmy pressed forward slowly. The stretch was unbelievable, just as it was every damn time, hot and hard and so good that Dean thought his legs would give way. All that kept Dean from sinking to the floor was Jimmy pressed close in front of him, Not-Jimmy standing firm behind him. him. It felt like an endless lifetime of Not-Jimmy filling him, brushing through his neglected insides, giving him exactly what he wanted, exactly what he needed, but finally it was done, flesh against flesh, coarse hairs tickling at the sensitive skin of Dean's ass. Jimmy's hand froze and he panted with the effort of holding himself back, stopping himself from stroking them both to climax.

"Castiel," whispered a husky voice in Dean's ear.

"Castiel?" Dean breathed. The twin behind him shuddered, moaned, and his cock twitched within Dean. With a whimper, Dean pitched forward. Jimmy barely caught him, chuckling throatily. "Casti—oh _fuck_."Drawing back, Not-Jimmy – _Castiel_ – drew back until only the very tip of his cock was still in Dean's ass, sank back into Dean's willing body easily, and a tremor quaked through Dean from head to toe. "Cas..."

Slowly, Jimmy began to stroke, and slowly, Cas thrust into him, the pressure building within him, pleasure so fulfilling Dean could hardly believe it was really happening to him. This was his reward, for visiting the campus, for deciding to try to apply, for admitting that he was interested, for positing ways he might be able to afford the tuition.

He'd fucking _earned this_ and it felt _glorious._

Enveloped in the arms of these two wonderful men, these two people who believed in him so completely, wanted him so badly, Dean drowned in pleasure and came, every breath "Jimmy" and "Castiel" in broken syllables as he spilled over Jimmy's hand. Cas followed moments later, overwhelmed by his first time inside Dean, fucking _sobbing_ "Dean" every time the broken syllables of his name fell from Dean's lips. Jimmy took the longest, which wasn't saying much, stroking Dean's over-stimulated cock until he was soft, letting Cas and Dean slip limply to the floor, spewing his load all over Dean's face as Jimmy delightedly laughed and moaned through his climax.

Dean had four more years before he'd have to figure out how to live without Jimmy and Castiel when they finally left Pontiac for good.

As Jimmy sank down before Dean, both twins wrapped their arms around him and hung from his shoulders. Another thought struck Dean.

 _Sam leaves for college in three years. When they leave, I could leave with them...if they wanted..._

Sighing, Dean surrendered to a simple reality, one he had rarely been able to indulge in during his life: he was happy. They were happy. The three of them were happy together.

 _I hope this is what they want, because I know, I_ know _, that this is what I want_.

For the first time in his life, Dean marveled at how much he had to look forward to.

 _Everything is going to be okay. As long as they're here, everything will be fine._

All three of them managed to pointedly ignore that they were cuddled up together on the floor of a semi-public bathroom stall. At least it was clean. Cas sighed and eased against his back; Jimmy squirmed closer to him, cradling Dean and Cas both in his broad embrace, and Dean knew that the twins weren't going anywhere.

 _On Tuesday, I'll tell them everything, about mom and dad, about how we ended up in Pontiac, about why I'm sometimes such a huge asshole and why this is so damn hard for me. I'll tell them all of it. I'm certain, now – they're not going to leave. If they haven't left me yet, they're not going to leave me now._

Thanks fucking _God_ he let Sam talk him into taking Crowley's fucking Psychology elective.

* * *

End note: And done! I know, not every question is answered, but...well, that wasn't really the point of this fic. Hope y'all don't mind!

Also - question! When I've written stories that have lots of shorter scenes like this one does, I've generally opted to put chapter divides where ever I feel like, and further sub-divide with lines that break up the divisions. Sometimes, though, I've wondered - provided the scenes are super, super short, would folks prefer if I did those small scenes as separate chapters for stories like this, or do you like it the way I do it now?

Thanks, everyone, and I hope you enjoyed!


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